Badlands Rendez-vous
by BerserkerHellHound
Summary: After Tonto is hurt during a run-in with a particularly nasty group of outlaws, The Lone Ranger takes his friend into town for medical care. Little does he know that the outlaws are waiting for them, and looking to finish the job.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey guys, if there is actually anyone out there, this is my first Lone Ranger fic. I am so incredibly nervous. I hope you guys like it.

Thank you to AlElizabeth for being my beta, even though this is totally not your fandom. I appreciate it.

I do not own Lone Ranger, I wish, and only the OCs are mine.

Anyways without any further ado, I present to you "Badlands Rendez-vous."

**Badlands Rendez-vous**

**Chapter 1**

The Lone Ranger tied the reins of his trusty stead, Silver, to the hitching rail behind the jailhouse. He calmly untied a long rope from the saddle and pulled on it sharply, sending the small group of criminals attached to it stumbling after him in surprise.

The Ranger allowed himself a small moment to smile and proceeded to walk towards the back entrance. "Let's go gentlemen. I haven't got all day," he said, pushing open the door to the jailhouse.

"Yeah. Come on boys, the Ranger wants to get back to his redskin," the leader of the Roderick Thieves said, a grin spreading across his face.

John turned sharply to respond but was interrupted by a loud voice behind him, "Can I help you gentlemen?"

John turned to the voice, keeping his head down. "Hello Sheriff. I have the Roderick Thieves."

"Uh-huh? The Roderick Thieves?" The Sheriff asked, bringing up a wanted poster to the leader. "Well, he sure does look like Roderick. Why don't you lock 'em up, son?" The Sheriff said, gesturing to the cell.

The Ranger looked to the single cell that already had a man inside, bound and gagged. "That sure is a small cell for this large group, Sheriff. Are you sure you want all of them together?"

The Sheriff shook his head, "Well Ranger, we are a small town, we ain't used to getting criminals. Usually just got a rowdy drunk or Injun makin' trouble. This is all we got, so it's gonna have ta be good enough."

John grit his teeth and nodded. "Alright, Sheriff. But I expect you to keep a guard on them at all times," he said before pulling them towards the cell door.

"Of course Ranger. We'll keep 'em nice and cozy here until execution time," the Sheriff said, handing John a cup of water. "Now, will you be spending the night in our town, Ranger? I can get you a nice price at the saloon if ya like," the Sheriff offered.

John shook his head, "Well I appreciate that Sheriff, but I have a friend out in the desert waiting for me."

"Yeah, that's right! He got a damn redskin waiting for him out there!" Roderick yelled out, shaking his cuffed fists angrily.

The Sheriff turned to the men in the cell, "Now, y'all better behave. I don't want none of ya making trouble for me after this here Ranger bothered to catch ya."

John nodded and set his empty cup on the desk. "Thank you Sheriff. I had best be on my way now." He swept out of the jailhouse and jumped up on Silvers back.

"Ranger," he heard behind him, "What's with the mask?"

John turned and smiled before heading into the desert without another word.

John had been riding Silver through the desert for the greater part of three hours without a sign of his angry, half-crazy Indian companion. He knew that Tonto was angry with him; after all, they had had another fight about the proper way to dispense justice. Despite everything they had been through while trying to catch Butch Cavendish, Tonto was still convinced that it was perfectly fine to deal out your own "justice" in the middle of the desert.

It had been quite a fight, on the edge of town, yelling at each other, neither willing to back down, right in front of the Roderick Thieves Gang.

Tonto had made it quite clear that if John was unwilling to simply finish the thieves rather than bring them into town, then John would be going alone into town.

When John had left the town, he had expected to find Tonto waiting for him, perhaps feeding that damn bird, but when John had gotten to the edge of town there was no one waiting for him.

It wasn't the first time Tonto had gone off on his own and expected John to catch up eventually, but usually they had found each other after an hour. John had turned to look at the sun at his back, frowning when he saw how close it had come to the horizon. He didn't want to be the one to set up camp. It wasn't his turn, but if he didn't find Tonto soon then that's exactly what was going to happen. H pulled out his canteen and took a sip of water, it being such a hot commodity in the desert he was never sure when he would be able to find more.

With a sigh, John turned Silver towards a series of outcrops, planning on having a serious talking to with Tonto about staying closer to town. The sun was just beginning to set when John rounded the outcrop. He could hear the sounds of people fighting and urged Silver to run towards a group of men, kicking and punching someone at their feet.

"Hey! What are you doing?" John demanded, pulling out his gun. The group stopped their attack on the person on the ground and turned, confused.

"What's eit ter ya, outlaw?" One of the men asked. "Eit's jus' an Injun," he said, and aimed a hard kick into the person again.

John looked down at the person on the ground and felt his blood pressure rise instantly. He could recognize that black and white paint anywhere. John turned his hate filled gaze on the group of men, "I'm no outlaw. I am a Texas Ranger," he informed them. "And that man is my partner," he hissed, aiming his gun at the apparent leader of the group.

"Ranga?" The man asked, eyeing the mask.

"That's right. Now I'm going to give you the count of ten to get out of my sight or I swear to God you will regret the day you ever decided to pick a fight with my friend," he told them, cocking back the hammer. "One… Two… Three…" He began, watching with satisfaction as the men started backing up.

"Four… Five… Six…" He continued, steadying his hand. The man started running, hell bent on escaping the mad man. "Seven… Eight… Nine…"

The men were rounding a corner, fleeing the reach of a bullet.

"Ten," John whispered, putting away his gun. Nodding to himself, he turned to the injured man on the ground, the man that he had prepared to, possibly, kill a man for. "Tonto?" He asked, crouching down next to his friend. He gently reached out and felt for a pulse, his own pounding in his ears. He was so used to the sarcastic man with his snide comments he half expected Tonto to say something about him counting to ten like those men were children getting a warning from their Mama.

After a terrifying moment, John felt the other mans' pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. "You couldn't have stuck closer to town could you?" He asked, looking round the area and deciding that it was as good a spot as any to camp for the night.

John whistled for Silver and Scout to come closer and grabbed the reins of both horses, tying them to a small bush nearby. He gathered the blankets from the horses, using one as a cushion for his friends head. He moved a little further away, grabbing what had fallen during the apparent scuffle that had taken place. When he returned to Tonto's side, he had a new bandana, knife and that damn bird, which he laid at his friends' side.

"Alright boys, you keep an eye on him," John ordered the horses. He didn't want to leave Tonto lying there alone, but he had to gather firewood, otherwise they would freeze through the night. He didn't wander far from the camp however, preferring to gather an armful of small dried pieces of wood, hoping they would last the night.

When he got back to camp, John checked Tonto's pulse again, releasing a great sigh of relief when he felt a strong beating beneath his fingers. John built up the fire and checked the suns position, reckoning he had about ten minutes to check on Tonto's injuries before it became too dark to see. If that happened they would just have to wait for morning.

John carefully moved aside the hair pipe breastplate and immediately saw a bullet wound oozing blood from Tonto's right shoulder. John sighed and opened his saddle bag, pulling out a pair of foreceps. He took a deep steadying breath and started digging around, only receiving a soft groan from Tonto for his efforts.

"You know, it's weird being the one doing the healing. Usually you're the one that has to patch me back up. I don't think I've ever seen you get hurt, unless I was the one doing it… You remember when I smacked you over the head with that shovel? I kind of feel bad for that," John spoke simply to calm his nerves. There was a reason he became a lawyer and not a doctor. "It was awfully inconsiderate of you to go and get hurt. This was your turn to set up camp _and_ have first watch. And now I'm stuck doing all that. How is that fair, hmm?" John continued.

After a couple agonising minutes, John was able to pull out the bullet with a wet pop and had wrapped the wound the best her could in the failing light. He gently felt for any broken ribs but thankfully didn't feel anything shift in Tonto's chest.

He rolled Tonto onto his stomach and had to wet the bandana he found to help clean out the small pieces of gravel from his friends back. He laid down his jacket so that Tonto's ruined back wouldn't be resting on the sand.

After the sun had set and John could no longer clearly see what he was doing, he carefully checked the back of Tonto's head and could feel the crunchy hair that foretold of a head wound.

Now that his adrenaline was running low, John could feel his exhaustion creeping back up on him. He really had been looking forward to having the second watch. He had been looking forward to any kind of sleep he could get actually.

When he left the town he had been regretting turning down the offer of a bed and a full night sleep. Now, having seen his friend in such mortal danger, thanked God that he had turned down the Sheriff. With a shake of his head, John realized he had dozed off sitting where he was without noticing.

John covered up Tonto and pulled out some old dried bread and salted meat before he leaned back and made himself comfortable for the long night ahead of him.

Author's Note: If anyone bothers to read the author's note at the end, which I tend not to, I have a Lone Ranger joke told by my dad who used to wake up early Sunday mornings to watch the original Lone Ranger:

**Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Lone Ranger, not knowing that Tonto was disguised as a door, shot off his knob. **


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alright. So I must admit I was a little sad that the only person that reviewed out of the 38 people with visited, but I'm not going to be like one of those authors that beg for reviews. I will however say that I am concerned that Tonto and the Lone Ranger are way OOC. I'm currently watching the original Lone Ranger and I am having trouble keeping the two separate in my mind.

So anyways, this story is complete. I never post anything without finishing it first.

Thanks to my beta, AlElizabeth. If anyone in this fandom reads Supernatural fics I recommend checking her out.

Thanks to everyone who read this so far, hopefully you are enjoying it.

I don't know the Lone Ranger, blah blah blah.

And now on with the show.

**Chapter 2**

The gang that the Lone Ranger had run off hadn't gone very far. Once they got around to the other side of the outcrop they had all collapsed in a breathless pile and the leader, Bogs, had decided that they would camp there for the night. As the boys went in search of firewood he thought back on the events of the day.

The morning had started in a panic, as soon after they had broke camp, one of the scouts said he saw a pair of men on the horizon and it appeared they were following the groups' tracks. After a couple hours of riding the scout reported that the pair of men was drawing closer. The leader of the gang had then ordered that they would split up, sending Bogs with half and taking the other half with him.

Bogs watched Roderick ride off with half the gang and when they were out of sight, followed them, keeping far enough back to not be noticed. Bogs and the rest of his half dismounted, leaving their horses at the bottom of a sand dune and watched as an Injun wearing a bird on his head appeared from nowhere, effectively stopping the headlong dash that Roderick had set. Bogs and the boys were about to shoot when the sound of hooves just to their right made them hide further down in the sand.

Bogs listened carefully while one of the men ordered the other to cuff Roderick.

With a smirk, Bogs sent one of the boys to town to make sure that Roderick didn't stay locked up too long. Afterwards, he led the other boys to a series of outcrops where they would have a good vantage point for when Roderick came riding back.

They spent a long hot afternoon high up on the outcrops, some of the boys complained that they would get sunstroke. Bogs had been able to call it a night when he saw a rider on the horizon approaching the outcrops.

As the rider neared Bogs, he realized that it was the damn Indian that helped get Roderick locked up. He and the boys waited for the Injun to get closer and, with a well-aimed shot, hit the Injun right off his horse. The horse had spooked and dragged the redskin by his foot, which had been caught in the stirrup. He and the boys laughed so hard while the Injun was being drug by his own horse. He soon freed himself and started to stagger to his feet. Bogs signalled for the boys to head on down to the Indian and they quickly surrounded the bird-wearing freak.

Before they had only seen the bird he was wearing but now that they were close Bogs noticed that the Indian was wearing black and white face paint. Not for the first time, Bogs wondered how a race of people could survive in the wild without wearing shirts, wearing face paint and dancing around fires. It was no wonder the cavalry were making such easy work of them. Despite the bullet wound, the Injun put up quite a good fight, managing to land a solid punch on the boys that got too close. Even though he was able to fight well enough, all it took to knock down the Indian was some good hard hits to the bullet wound.

He and the boys started raining down punches and kicks as soon as the Injun hit the sand. At first the Injun had tried to cover his head but after a while he was knocked unconscious by a particularly hard kick to the head. Bogs was certain that the Injun wouldn't have survived much longer had not the Ranger shown up.

At first Bogs had thought that the masked man was an outlaw and couldn't, for the life of him, understand why he would bother rescuing some Injun. But then the masked man had introduced himself as a Texas Ranger and he said the Injun was his partner. Well, this opened up a whole new can of worms.

If _that_ Injun was this Rangers partner then that, logically, means that the man who brought Roderick and the rest of the gang into town was this masked man.

Bogs considered going around in the dark to shoot the Ranger in the back, finish him and his redskin off together. But where's the fun in that? No. He would have to figure out a better punishment for messing with the Roderick Thieves. He'd let the Ranger live, for now, but he would make sure to take his vengeance.

"Bogs?" One of the boys asked.

The leader shook himself out of his reverie and looked around, frowning. "Where's tha damn fiyra?" He demanded.

"The boys couldn't find any wood nearby, Bogs. And they won't get close to the Ranger," the other man answered.

Bogs' frown deepened. "Wha' do ya mean they won' get close ter tha Ranga?"

The man swallowed, "They're scared Bogs. Scared that Ranger'll kill 'em."

Bogs stood up, using his imposing height to his advantage to tower over the other man. "Ei don't care if thay're 'frayd of phantoms or sand worms. Either ya get 'em out thayre gatherin' or Ei'll use ya as cordwood!"

The man shrunk down, nodding his head, "Y…y…yes, Bogs. Whatever you say."

The Lone Ranger felt his horse Silver nudge him again as his chin rested on his chest. John shook his head. "I'm awake," he announced and shifted where he sat.

With a tired groan, he stood and checked on Tonto for what felt like the hundredth time that night. His friend had yet to wake but his pulse was strong and steady. John fed the fire more wood before settling down again. "You see what you've put me through, Tonto? I can barely keep my eyes open. If you were awake you'd probably be saying something, 'no Kemosabe. I do not make you stay awake. Horse keep you awake'" John said, doing his best to impersonate the Indian.

John yawned loudly and looked to the horizon, praying that the sun would rise soon. He had to have been up all night by now. There's no way it had only been a couple hours. He had planned on keeping track of time; however, he had fallen asleep a couple times, only to be awakened by Silver who knows how long later. At one point he had heard coyotes yipping in the distance, and he had worried that the smell of Tonto's blood would draw them closer, but none appeared.

John could feel his head sinking down again when he heard a soft groan and immediately was on his feet and at Tonto's side.

"Kemosabe?" Tonto asked, his eyes open slightly a confused frown on his face.

John smiled, he didn't care what Tonto wanted to call him at the moment, as long as he was awake. "Yeah, hey Tonto. How do you feel?"

"Feels like I've been shot," Tonto announced and tried to sit up, but fell back quickly with a pained groan. "And maybe dragged by Scout," he admitted.

John nodded his head, "Yeah, cause I'm guessing that's exactly what happened. Why don't you try to get some more rest? I'll keep watch."

Tonto cocked his head, "This is the first time you've offered to take watch, Kemosabe."

John chuckled nervously, "Yeah, well, you had me worried Tonto. But don't think that this is a vacation. You can do some extra shifts to make up for this later."

Tonto smiled and promptly fell back asleep.

John allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that his friend was going to be alright. When the sun rose in the morning he would make a travois for the horses to pull and head back to town for some medical attention, not that Tonto would be happy about it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Alright. Whatever. Fine. Don't review. See if I care. Thanks for reading at least. This fic is only 5 chapters long btw.

Thanks to my beta; AlElizabeth

Enjoy

Chapter 3

When the Lone Ranger awoke it was not because of his horse Silver nudging him again, but rather, from the light of the morning sun glaring down on him. John groaned and rubbed his tired eyes before staggering to a vague standing position.

"About time, Kemosabe," Tonto greeted from where he sat hunched over, poking the embers with a stick.

"Tonto? What are you doing up? I thought I told you to rest," John chastised and staggered over to where his friend sat.

"Already rested. Ready to keep moving," Tonto informed him, not moving.

John gave Tonto a skeptical look that the Indian didn't see since he still had not looked up from the coals. "If you're ready to keep moving then stand up and get on Scout," John told him.

"Of course," Tonto replied but made no move to stand. John waited for a minute and was about to tell Tonto to stop being so stubborn and get more rest when the Indian hissed and got his feet under him.

Using the stick that he'd been poking the fire with as a cane, Tonto managed to stagger to his feet, a grimace on his face.

John nodded, "Well alright. So you can stand, but can you get on Scout?"

Tonto glared at the Ranger before slowly hobbling over to the paint and resting his hand on the horses' solid neck. "Be gentle, Scout," Tonto whispered to the horse and fit his foot into the stirrup. He reached over to pull himself up onto the horses' back but cried out when he put too much strain on his shoulder and fell back, his foot still stuck in the stirrup.

John walked over to the fallen Indian, "I think you need some more time before we move on."

Tonto huffed. "Maybe you are right, Kemosabe," he admitted.

"Course I am," John answered and walked away, returning soon afterwards with two long branches.

"What are you doing?" Tonto asked suspiciously.

John lashed one of the ragged blankets to the branches and turned to his friend. "Well, Tonto, since you clearly are going to be unable to ride Scout, I am going to have to pull you behind in a travois to town," he informed his friend.

Tonto's eyes went huge. He knew this was some kind of revenge. Spirit Horse must have told Spirit Walker about what happened when he was in a travois and now Spirit Walker was going to try the same thing. "No, Kemosabe. I will not go to town," Tonto answered, crossing his arms, which would have helped him be taken more seriously if he wasn't still flat on his back with his foot stuck in the stirrup.

The Ranger ignored what his friend said and proceeded to hitch the travois to Silver with another lead for Scout to follow along by. "You need to rest more, Tonto, and I don't want you passing out if you ride with me."

"I will not go," Tonto said refusing to look at his friend.

John crouched down next to Tonto, his hands on his knees. "I think you will Tonto. And do you want to know why?" He asked.

Tonto looked up at his friend, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, before a fist landed hard and he was knocked unconscious.

"Because you don't get a say in the matter," John said. He pulled his friends foot from the stirrup and dragged the smaller man to the travois.

"Dick! What'r they doin'?" Bogs demanded from where he sat, picking his teeth with a knife.

The man, Dick, looked down from his vantage point, "That Ranger just punched the Injun out cold. Looks like they're gonna head back ter town."

Bogs leaned back, resting his back against a large rock and laughed. "Good, let 'em be. We'll see 'em in town. Saddle up tha hosses boys," he ordered.

One of the men, Carson, his second-in-command, came up while the others were preparing the horses. "Bogs, why don't we just kill 'em now? It's only the Ranger. The Injun's not gonna put up any fight," he suggested.

Bogs sneered, "Carson, let's say ya was Roderick. An' let's say ya thought ya was goin' ta town thinkin' ya was gonna hang. Now wha' betta present could ya ask fer than ter be able ta kill tha Ranga that locked ya up? Now stop questnin' me or Ei'll make sure ya walk the desert withou' yer hoss."

Carson nodded and backed away quickly, heading for his horse.

Bogs turned in the direction of town, "'Ere we come."

Several hours later, the Lone Ranger rode back into Cold Creek, exhaustion from the long night of lack of sleep and the long day of riding slowly and making sure Tonto didn't fall off the travois. He had woken up at one point during the ride and put up a hell of a fight, forcing John to tighten the restraints holding Tonto onto the travois.

When they arrived in town, there was barely anyone outside. A young woman moved quickly along the boardwalk and ducked into the general store, and an older man stood in front of the livery stable, chewing tobacco.

The Lone Ranger looked around the town, confused. He figured with a town that size the streets would be bustling with children getting under feet and running around the horses. Hell, he'd even expected to have to chase off kids who were curious about Tonto.

John looked up at the sun and shrugged. Maybe the town took a siesta around noon. It wouldn't surprise him. Often towns closer to the border of Mexico would pick up some of their habits. He turned Silver towards the building clearly marked Doctor and Apothecary and left the horses waiting for him, certain that they wouldn't wander too far.

John swung Tonto's good arm over his shoulder and drug the yet again unconscious Indian into the building. John frowned when the doctor wasn't there to greet him when he walked in, but he lied Tonto down on the bed and went to the stairs leading to the next floor.

"Doctor? Are you in?" He called up and was instantly greeted by the sound of someone walking along the squeaky wood floors above him.

"Be down in a minute, son! Just you wait!" A voice called and John went to sit near the bed he'd left Tonto on. After a minute, a man adjusting a black vest came down the stairs, his suspenders hanging loosely at his hips. "Yes son. What can I do for you?" The man asked.

John stood up, "Are you the doctor?"

The man stood up straighter, "I most certainly am. And apothecary, if that's what you need. Name's Pickett."

"I need whatever you think my friend here needs," John told the man, indicating Tonto on the bed.

"An Indian, huh? Well, I won't make no judgement. Everybody gets the same treatment here, don't matter the colour of skin," the doctor said. "But I need to ask, son. Are you an outlaw? We've been having a whole heap of trouble with outlaws lately and I don't want more."

John shook his head, "No sir. I'm not an outlaw. I'm a Texas Ranger. The mask is to protect someone important to me."

The doctor nodded excitedly. "A Ranger, huh? That means you carry a gun right? Well you better keep that close, you might need it soon," the doctor said, glancing up at the ceiling when it creaked.

John frowned, "Do you have a rodent problem or something? My gun isn't going to be much help unless you want the floor full of holes."

The doctor sighed. "No, Ranger. I don't have rodents. Let's take a look at your friend shall we?" He gathered up several bottles nearby and motioned for John to move Tonto's breastplate.

The doctor clucked, "I've never understood why Indians insist on wearing those things. Sure, I could understand if they stopped an outlaw's bullet, but they're more fancy than functional. Shot, huh? Probably an outlaw I bet. Maybe one of the Roderick boys?" The doctor suggested.

The Ranger shook his head. "I brought the Roderick Thieves into jail around noon yesterday. This happened sometime afterwards," he told the doctor.

Pickett raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who brought them huh? Well they've been causing no end of trouble for the Sheriff since they got here."

"They have, have they? That's a shame. I thought the Sheriff could handle that small gang," John answered. "Now, Tonto here looks like his horse dragged him. His back's a mess. And the back of his head was bleeding quite a bit last night," John said, hoping to steer the doctors attention away from outlaws for a minute.

The doctor frowned, "Yeah huh?" He bent over the bullet wound, ignoring what the Ranger had mentioned. "Seems like someone dug around quite a bit," Pickett mentioned.

"Uh yeah, that was me. I couldn't find the bullet," the Ranger admitted.

"Typical" the doctor muttered and poured some foul smelling liquid on a cloth and patted the wound. "Roll him onto his stomach, would you?" The doctor asked sitting down and pouring a mug of some kind of red liquor from a giant pitcher.

"What's that for?" The Ranger asked as he rolled Tonto over.

"Drinking. What else would you do with sangaree?" The doctor asked taking a deep drink from the mug. He set down his mug and made an irritated sound as he moved Tonto's long hair out of the way. "Yup, you were right. Looks like he was drug," he announced and splashed that foul smelling liquid across the Indians back.

With a gasp, Tonto sat up quickly, smashing the doctor in the nose with the back of his head. He looked around the room for a moment before turning furiously to John. "I said no town," Tonto growled, forcing himself off the bed.

John opened his mouth to answer, when; suddenly the room was the scene of a firefight. And for the next few seconds that place was Armageddon.

The door to the doctors swung open and Roderick and Bogs entered, guns drawn. The doctor was on the ground, his hands covering his head. They advanced carefully through the room. On the other side of an overturned doctors bed, lied the Indian and Ranger, a pool of red spreading out around them.

A/N: So originally I had intended for Bogs' accent to be Texan. That did not pan out well and turned into this monstrosity for an accent. I don't even know where he would be from. Oh well.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N

Hey Guys. I would like to start off with a huge _thank you _to **montanagirl1138 **for alerting _and _favouriting this fic. That means a lot more than a review. So thank you. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint.

Here is chapter 4. After this is the final chapter and hopefully I'll be able to work on another fic during the Christmas break before school starts again and I'm run ragged :/

Again, thank you to AlElizabeth for betaing. You're a great sis… usually :D

Oh yes, I can't remember if in the last chapter I had any curse words, but I do know there is one… maybe two… and I kinda remember putting one in the last chapter… maybe. I don't know anymore. I hope that doesn't bother anyone.

Enjoy

Chapter 4

The sound of someone running down the stairs distracted both Roderick and Bogs for a moment and they turned to look at the gang member who had been keeping the doctor quiet until the Ranger showed up.

A moment was all that was needed.

The Lone Ranger jumped up from where he was lying in a puddle of sangaree, gun drawn. He grabbed Roderick, who was standing the closest, and held his gun to the man's head.

"Tonto? Are you with me still?" He asked.

"What do you think, Kemosabe?" The Indian askd as he staggered up, his hand covering his bullet wound. Tonto moved forward and quickly disarmed Roderick, while Bogs stood by watching without moving.

"Alright. Now drop your gun or your boss will get it," John threatened, cocking back the hammer of his gun.

"No," Bogs replied and fired his gun three times, each bullet hitting the target of Roderick's chest.

The Ranger and Tonto froze, staring wide eyed at Bogs. "But…what?" John asked.

Bogs grimaced, "Hell, I've been plannin' on killin' 'im eva since Ei kin remember, jus' neva could find a good 'nuff chayence. An' then ya' walked inter our lives an' provieid me tha opportunety. So fer tha' Ei'll thank ya' but Ei must ask that ya die now."

No one moved, save for the doctor who wailed and pushed himself into a tight corner, covering his head. Bogs cocked back the hammer of his gun and for a moment, no one breathed.

"What are you waitin' for, Bogs? Kill them!" The man who came from upstairs shouted.

Everyone jumped at the sound of his voice and John jumped in front of Tonto, pushing his towards the stairs. "Run!" He shouted and kept his gun pointed at Bogs as the two raced up the stairs, keeping his eyes on the men on the ground floor.

Bogs growled in frustration and shot his gun twice.

John reached the top floor just as Tonto was breaking one of the windows which led onto the roof of a neighbouring building. "Must to jump" Tonto told the Ranger.

John nodded and climbed through the window, landing with a jolt on the solid wood roof. Tonto landed beside him, graceful as ever, and walked calmly across the roof to the next building over, knocking in the glass window there also.

"Come, Kemosabe," Tonto ordered and slipped in through the broken window.

John forced himself to his feet and followed behind his friend, clutching his left arm. He slipped into the building after Tonto and slid down the wall, breathing hard. "You know, being a Spirit Walker is great and all, but I wish I couldn't be _shot_."

Tonto nodded sagely, "It would be preferable." He pulled a rag from one of the boxed beside him; apparently they had ended up in the general store. Tonto pressed the dirty rag onto John's bullet wound and moved John's hand so he would hold it. He then slid down the wall and sat next to John, leaning his head back.

"Hey, don't you pass out on me again," John ordered.

Tonto smiled, "I will fight, Kemosabe."

John looked over at his friend, "I could use a drink after this, what do you think?"

Tonto opened his eyes and shared a smile, "I think that is best idea you have had."

John laughed and thumped his head back. He looked over to the doors leading down to the sales floor of the building they were in. He knew that they had to get moving again soon, that they were wasting time sitting there chatting. He was just so damn tired. His limbs felt like lead and his hands shook when he held his gun, and this time it wasn't from nerves.

"Alright, Tonto I have an idea to get us out of this," John announced, forcing his aching legs to hold him up.

"Two ideas in one day? I am impressed."

John frowned.

Bogs reclined in a chair looking out the off-kilter batwing doors of the saloon. From where he sat he had a perfect view of the other side of the street. He had a couple of the boys waiting just outside the doors of the saloon and had left Dick standing guard by the windows of the doctors, just in case the Ranger decided to try and sneak from health care.

He was going to send some men up to the second floor of the general store, but the Ranger had picked a pretty good spot to stay hidden. It would have been easy enough for the Ranger and his Injun to pick off anyone who stuck their head to peek onto the second floor. And so now they played the waiting game. Bogs was quite good at it, having patiently waited for 4 years to kill Roderick, he could last a couple hours.

Bogs took a deep gulp of his rotgut and started picking his teeth with his knife again, a tic he had developed over the years.

Now that he had a moment to think about it, and truly believe he had done it, Bogs needed to think about a new name for the Roderick Thieves. It would hardly be appropriate for them to keep that name since Roderick had passed away so unexpectedly.

"Hey! Bogs! We got trouble!" Carson yelled, running full tilt into the saloon and sliding to a stop inches away from Bogs.

"Carson, wha' the hell kinda trouble can ya have? Can't ya keep yer shiyit togetha?" Bogs demanded, slamming his cup of rotgut down, spilling some of the foul mix.

"Sheriff's escaped. I found Pete knocking unconscious," Carson reportd.

"Wha' d'ya mean the Shuriff's escaped?!" Bogs shrieked, jumping to his feet and grabbing Carson by his collar. "Can't ya do anythin' rieght? He demanded, shaking the man viciously.

"I… I… I'm sorry, Bogs. I wasn't there. I couldn't stop it," Carson pleaded.

"Ei'll make ya surry!" Bogs yelled and pressed his gun against Carsons chest and pulled the trigger.

Carson gasped, and staggered back when Bogs released his collar. "Bogs?" Carson asked and fell backwards through the batwing doors, landing with a solid _thunk_ on the boardwalk.

"Fritz! Dan! Get tha' piece of filth outta mei sight! An' wake up Pete! Ei wanna talk to 'im!" Bogs yelled and filled his cup again.

Tonto, John and Sheriff Don Jacobs sat on the roof of the jailhouse, hidden by the large front wall of the building.

"So, lemme get this straight, boy. You wanna stop these outlaws but you don't wanna kill 'em or hurt 'em? That 'bout right?" Jacobs demanded.

"Yes," John answered at the same time Tonto said "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Dammit Tonto! Haven't we talked about this enough? I'm not going to kill anyone! I bring them in to face justice," John snapped angrily.

"You bring them in from fear, not for justice," Tonto answered simply.

"You know, it must be nice to have such a clean – cut, black – and – white view of the world. You say they're bad so they must die but that's not how the world works. There's always another way," John chastised.

Tonto frowned "Windigo was bad and had to die. You did not stop me then."

John cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes, well, there were extenuating circumstances then."

Tonto narrowed his eyes. "Brothers murder or the woman?" He asked, genuinely interested.

"I don't think that's any of your business, now is it?" John shifted uncomfortably.

"Boys, I'm sorry to have to break up this little moral discussion but can we talk about how we're gonna save my town?" The Sheriff interrupted, "You brought these outlaws to my town and I want them the hell out."

John snapped his mouth shut and nodded, "Right. We'll finish this later, Tonto."

"I look forward to it," Tonto replied as he reached up to feed the crow on his head.

"Yeah, I bet. Alright, here's what we're going to do. Tonto, I want you to _distract_ or _disarm_ the men in front of the saloon. Sheriff, you go around the back and pick off anyone hiding in the buildings."

"What will you do, Kemosabe?" Tonto inquired staring into the desert.

"I'm going to confront the leader, what was his name? Bogs?" John said, checking his guns were loaded.

"Hm. You be careful. Bogs is not like other men. He does not trust and cannot be trusted. He is not afraid to fight dirty," Tonto warned his friend as he stood, feeding the crow once again. Without waiting for a reply, Tonto was gone, moving along the rooftops silently.

"What's with the crow?" The Sheriff asked, watching Tonto leave.

John shook his head. "I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry I haven't updated like normal! I was kinda swamped with exams and prepping for term 2 of Nursing. Oh joy.

Thanks to everyone who read and commented or followed or favourited. That means a lot. So anyways, here's my Christmas present to all y'all! The final chapter! I hope you enjoy.

Oh yeah, also thanks to my beta AlElizabeth.

Chapter 5

"Pete, wha' happand?"

Pete sat nervously in the chair he'd been deposited into by Fritz and Dan. He had still been pretty groggy when they dragged him from the jailhouse but he didn't miss the puddle of blood in front of the saloon.

"I don't know, Bogs. I was guarding the Sheriff just like you said and the back door opened and that damn Injun walked in. I was bout to shoot him but someone must have come up behind me. Next I knew Fritz was there and the Sheriff was gone," Pete explained, shaking like a leaf.

Bogs set his hand down on Petes shoulder and patted him. "Don' worry, Pete. Ei'll give ya a saykint chance. Tha Injun an' Ranga ain't no good. Ei'm gonna make ya ma new saykint in command, an' tha first thing Ei wan' ya to do is go round to tha boys and let 'em know tha Ranga's out ther."

Pete nodded and quickly ran out of the saloon, eager to escape Bogs' wrath.

Tonto leaned over the edge of the roof of the saloon, checking where his prey waited. He was about to attack when the skinny little man that John had knocked out during the fight at the jailhouse ran in.

"Bogs! You gotta come quick! I saw the Ranger! He was tying up Dick and Hanson!" Pete reported, breathless.

Bogs slammed his cup down and stood unsteadily, "Caint any o' y'all idiots do anything? He yelled and pushed Pete out of the way as he ran from the saloon. Pete quickly followed behind, trying to catch up to Bogs.

Tonto dropped down from the rooftops, landing silently next to one of the men standing guard. Fritz jumped and pulled out his gun, aiming it.

"Fritz," Dan hissed, "Bogs'll here you."

Fritz paused. He didn't want to end up like Carson. He put his gun back in the holster and pulled out a small knife. Dan, behind him, did the same and the two quietly advanced.

Tonto pulled his tomahawk from its leather belt and waited for the men. John didn't want him to kill anyone, and he would do his best to honour that, but unlike his friend he would not wait to die if it came down to it. Fritz advanced on Tonto, knife held threateningly. Without warning, Fritz lunged at Tonto, overextending his arm in excitement, letting Tonto grab his fist and snap his elbow. Fritz screamed and fell to his knees, dropping his knife.

"You bastard!" Dan yelled and stepped forward, pushing Fritz out of the way. "I'm gonna cut ya good, Injun," he warned.

As Dan ran forward, several gun shots rang out, distracting him enough for Tonto to slip in close. He was about to settle his tomahawk blade into the side of the man's neck when he remembered his friend. Grudgingly, Tonto turned the weapon in time so that the flat of the blade hit him across the bottom jaw. Dan dropped his knife and clutched his jaw painfully. Tonto hit him once more, this time with better aim, across the side of his head, knocking Dan out cold.

Tonto quickly moved to where Fritz was lying, cradling his broken arm and hit his as well. He tied up the two unconscious men and climbed back up to the roof.

The Sheriff finished tying up his last target, a man named Mitch who had been hiding in one of the houses, keeping a group of women at gun point. Sheriff Jacobs was running quickly down the boardwalk back towards the jailhouse where they had agreed to meet up.

The door to the apothecary suddenly swung open and Pete jumped out, gun drawn. "Hello, Sheriff. Remember me?" He asked, cocking back the hammer.

"Don't do it," Jacobs said, holding his hand up.

"Sorry, Sheriff. Orders are orders," Pete said and pulled the trigger three times.

"No!" The Ranger yelled, running around the corner. He was so close but he couldn't do anything to stop what was happening. He fired his own gun knocking Pete's gun out of his hand but it was too late.

The Sheriff staggered back and stumbled off the boardwalk, landing in the dirt.

The Ranger jumped and knocked Pete off his feet. Angrily, he punched Pete as hard as he could. John felt the outlaws nose break, blood covering his fist thickly. "Dammit! Why? Why did you do that?" John demanded and hit the outlaw again. John sat back on his heels and breathed, trying to calm himself down. He felt a sudden wave of dizziness from the exertion and had to steady himself before he pulled some rope from where it was coiled on his belt.

After tying the outlaw up, John made his way down the boardwalk to the jailhouse. He pushed the door open and slowly walked inside, in a kind of daze.

Tonto looked up from where he sat, but didn't speak.

"The Sheriff's dead," John announced as he slumped down into a chair.

Tonto looked away without a word. They sat in silence for a couple minutes. Tonto stared out the window, watching for any signs of an impending attack. Johns head slowly started to sink down to his chest, his exhaustion overwhelming him.

"We're going to get justice now, Kemosabe," Tonto said, standing stiffly. Though he would never admit it, his battle wounds from the other day were causing him quite a bit of pain and he was half sure he had an infection.

John jerked awake and sat up straight. "Huh? Oh yeah, sure justice. But we're not going to kill anyone," John answered and yawned loudly.

Tonto frowned. "That's not the answer I wanted," he admitted.

"Bogs! Come out and fight me!" John yelled into the empty street, his heart pounding. He didn't think there were any more men in Bogs' gang left but he still had Tonto sitting on the rooftops, just in case.

For a minute, no one answered, but then the batwings of the saloon opened and Bogs stepped out, large brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes.

"Hello, Ranga. Ya've looked betta," Bogs called as he stepped into the street.

John smiled, "Is that so? Well you look about as bad as usual."

Bogs sneered, "Le's get this show on tha road."

The two men stood, waiting for the other to make his move, hands hovering over their holstered gun. A hot wind blew through the dead street, kicking up a swirl of dust as it went.

In an instant, the two men moved for their guns at the same time, drawing. The sound of gunfire rang through the small town, a moment later; a man hiding on the roof of the saloon fell to the ground, a tomahawk deep in his chest. The bullet from the sniper hit John in the right shoulder, sending him spinning into the ground.

Bogs grunted and fell to the ground.

Tonto jumped from where he was and ran to Bogs, checking for a pulse. When he was satisfied he ran over to John and rolled his friend over onto his back. "Tonto, did I get him?" John asked.

"He is dead, Kemosabe," Tonto told him.

"What? Dead? But that's not possible," John argued. "I aimed for his gun."

"Rest. I will get doctor," Tonto said and ran off.

John woke slowly, finding that he was lying on a rather comfortable bed and staring up at a wooden ceiling. He slowly sat up and looked around the room he was in, which he recognized as Pickett's office. Tonto was slouched over, sleeping quietly in a wooden chair neat the door, his tomahawk resting in his lap.

John stood up and walked over to the door and stepped outside. The doctor was sitting on a chair just outside the door, staring at the stars above, a cup of sangaree in his hands.

"Doctor," John greeted and sat down.

The doctor didn't move. "That's one dedicated Injun you have," he noted. "Sat through his fever in that chair and didn't leave 'cept to piss the whole time you were here resting up."

John sighed. That honestly did not surprise him at all.

"How long?"

"Four days."

They didn't say anything again for several minutes. The doctor refilled his cup a couple times and rolled himself a cigarette in the time they watched the stars.

"What happened with Bogs?" John finally asked. He dreaded to have the answer but he couldn't ignore what had happened.

"He's dead. Seems the bullet bounced off his gun and right into his forehead," the doctor said. "Would have been a simple disarming otherwise. Your Indian said you don't kill. It wasn't your fault. Just a fluke, Ranger," the doctor replied, the smoke bouncing between his lips, the cherry burning brightly.

"Right. A fluke," John said, yawning. He stood, "Thank you, doctor."

"Ranger," the doctor called just as John was about to go back inside. "You're not the most observant man, are you?"

John froze, "What do you mean?"

"Ranger, I gave you a hundred clues that the gang was there and you didn't notice. I just thought you might like to know you should work on your observational skills," the doctor said, a smile playing across his face.

"Right. Thank you," the Ranger said and walked into the apothecary, his cheeks burning. When he walked into the room, Tonto was waiting. "It's not your fault," he said, staring out the window.

"Thank you, Tonto," John said, heading to the bed. He paused just as he was about to crawl in, "Did you want the bed, Tonto?"

Tonto smiled. "I am used to sleeping in the desert. This chair is good enough," he said and looked back out the window.

Two days later, John and Tonto were saddling their horses out of the apothecary in the early morning light. The doctor leaned on the side of the building, sipping his sangaree again.

"You take care Ranger, Tonto," the doctor said, watching the two getting ready.

"You'll make sure the outlaws stay in the jailhouse this time?" John asked.

"Yessir. The other men and I will take shifts until we get that prosecutor out here. Should only be a couple days," the doctor said.

"Good man. Alright Tonto, let's go," John said jumped up onto Silver.

As the two men rode off into the morning sun, one of the ladies from the town walked over to the doctor on her way to General Store. "Say, Doctor. Who was that masked man, anyway?" She asked watching their figures disappear on the horizon.

"Why him? That was the Lone Ranger."


End file.
